Limitless
by i am cloud
Summary: Candice Burrows had everything planned out: study hard, graduate with honors, get into a good college, conquer the world, etc. And, for the most part, things seem to be going exactly as she imagined. But as her senior year continues to pass her by, she can't help but think that maybe she's doing something wrong. (Full Summary Inside.)
1. Chapter One

**Oh, my god. I finally watched ****_Shazam!_****, and I loved it! I laughed my ass off. I honestly can't remember the last time a movie did that for me. Then the plot bunnies came, and this happened.**

**Because I have zero patience to wait for the sequel to be released, ****_Limitless _****will be an AU fic. It's set about three years after the first film. But, hey, this should be fun!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Shazam!**_** in any way, shape, or form.**

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**Full Story Summary: "Candice Burrows had everything planned out: study hard, graduate with honors, get into a good college, conquer the world, etc. And, for the most part, things seem to be going exactly as she imagined. But as her senior year continues to pass her by, she can't help but think that maybe she's doing something wrong.**

**She really doesn't have any friends, considering she's put her academics above most everything. Her hobbies tend to cause peoples' eyes to glaze over whenever she musters up the courage to talk about them. And she's never dated. Like, ever. That could be because: a.) she sucks at flirting, b.) she'd rather die than admit to anyone she has a crush them, and c.) Freddy Freeman, the boy she likes, doesn't seem to know that she exists.**

**Then there's the fact that she can't get the guy who saved her life three years prior out of her head. A superhero who can fly and carry multiple people as if they weigh nothing.**

**She honestly thought she'd never see him again.**

**But then her life is in danger, yet again, and it's up to him to save the day. **

**In the weeks that follow, she finds him in the most unexpected places, always willing to stop for a bit to chat with her – as if they're old friends.**

**Along the way, Candice can't help but feel like the two guys she likes seem like they're practically the same person. . . .**

**What's a girl to do? Seriously. What should she do?!"**

* * *

There were three things Candice Burrows knew for certain: 1.) she studied her butt off, 2.) she didn't have any friends, and 3.) she was totally and completely enamored with Freddy Freeman.

She could accept the fact that she was an awkward nerd who didn't know how friendships worked, but god forbid that she ever let her crush know that she liked him. If Freddy knew that she pined for him like the protagonist of a Shakespearean play, the sun would burn out. All life would flame into an agonizing crisp, and it would totally be her fault - all because she let that pesky little thing known as "a crush" get the best of her.

So, she watched him from afar, imagining a million and one scenarios where she somehow found the courage to go up to him. The one that made her heart flutter was Freddy confessing that he felt the same way before they shared an epic kiss. The worst was him screaming in fear before the whole school chased her away with pitchforks. (The latter had happened around the time she had read _Frankenstein_ for English. Or maybe that was because she had watched _Shrek_ for the thousandth, too.)

In short, she'd rather face a gruesome death than let anyone know that the chatty teen held her affections.

She truly was a wonder to behold.

If Candice had friends, she knew that they would have relentlessly teased her. They might have joked that she kept a picture of him under her pillow (which she _totally_ didn't) so that she could make-out with it before she went to bed. But none of that would ever happen because she was a major loser who was incapable of befriending anyone outside of her family.

It was because of this that it wasn't that out-of-place when her little sister joined her at lunch one fateful day.

She had been so lost in thought, going through a list of books she could read after she got off work, that the sound of a lunch tray _plunking_ next to her startled her back to reality. Candice turned in her seat as her sister, Clary, _plopped _down. The younger girl dramatically sighed, as if she had been told the most annoying news ever, in greeting.

"Uh. . . hi?" Candice offered when Clary opted to violently poke at the pile of meaty goop the school had given her.

Clary blew a strand of dark hair out of her face. "Boys are stupid."

"I. . . guess?"

"Like, they say that they're going to call you, so you wait around all night for them to do that. And then they send a text to say 'change of plans, babe. meet me at my locker tomorrow.' So, you're like, 'okay, cool, things happen.' But then they don't even do that, so you hear from your lab partner that he wants to see you under the bleachers ASAP. You go there, and wouldn't you know it, he breaks up with you because he thinks that you're too 'boy crazy.' Then he tells you that he 'thought he'd be fine' with the fact that you've dated a lot, but he can't, so 'bye, smell you never.' I mean, who does that? Boys, that's who."

To most, the speed at which Clary ranted was much too fast. That she needed to slow down for people to have a clue about what she was saying. Having grown up with her, Candice could catch everything with ease, reacting appropriately. But today she missed more than she would care to admit. All she knew was that Clary was super upset and that she had broken-up with her latest partner.

A hand rapidly waved itself in front of Candice's line of sight, its blurry outline waving in and out of focus.

"_Hello!_ Earth to Candice?! You there?" Clary asked, slightly exasperated.

"Hmm? What?"

"Oh, my god! You didn't hear a single thing I told you!" Clary leaned back in her crappy plastic chair, throwing her arms up in frustration. "Not even my own sister seems to care that my ex-boyfriend is the absolute worst."

"I could have told you that."

And she had. _Multiple_ times during the few weeks that the two were a couple.

Clary groaned, letting her head drop heavily on the table, narrowly missing her food by a fraction of a hair. "Why am I attracted to assholes?"

"Most people are."

A pair of shimmering blue eyes peeked up at Candice, sad yet agreeing with her.

"Where was your head when I vomited out my feelings?" wondered Clary, scanning her sister for any hints. As if a magnet had pulled at her, her gaze shifted off to the side. A knowing, cheeky grin spread across her face, any trace of what had gotten her upset gone. "Oh!"

Candice tensed as Clary shot back up, jumping in place like a hyperactive chipmunk. For a moment, Candice worried that her sister might take a nasty tumble.

"You've been staring at him again, haven't you, creepy stalker?"

On the other side of the bland room sat Freddy with his foster brothers, Billy and Pedro. All oblivious to what was happening only feet away. Candice had tried her best not to openly goggle him, and she had been rather successful until her sister opened her smug mouth. Now she couldn't help but become temporarily transfixed by Freddy's lips as they briskly opened and shut, hands wildly painting a picture for whatever he was sharing with them.

_So cute. . . . _

After shaking her head to regain her wits, Candice attempted to place her palms over the way-too-excited-toddler's mouth. "I don't stalk him," she hissed. "And I wasn't -"

"_Pah-lease_. You can't stop looking at him. He's like catnip to you. One sniff and '_poof_,' all reason is gone."

"Clary, I'm begging you to stop talking."

For once, social butterfly listened. Dramatically rolling her eyes, Clary began to settle down. She roughly crossed her arms, fingers _tap_, _tap_, _tapping_ against the surface of the table they sat at. "Why won't allow yourself to drool over a cute guy? It's not like it'll hurt you to admit that you like someone."

Now it was Candice's turn to be the dramatic one.

Rubbing her thumbs beneath her exhausted gaze, the oldest of the two let a huff of breath slowly leave her nose. "Clary -"

"What? He is - if scrawny, mischief makers are your thing, which I'm guessing they are. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean, he has a great set of hair, so he's got that going for him."

He really did. Freddy's hair was gorgeous to look at - seeing as his brown, messy curls tended to bounce as if they were made of air. Candice daydreamed of running her fingers through them. Of sniffing it to see what it smelled like (probably sweat and generic shampoo, but _still_). And, yes, he did look like he always had something sneaky planned up his sleeve. But that was part of what drew her in; wondering what might be running through his mind as the hours ticked on by. She imagined that it was almost as chaotic as Clary's, which was saying something.

"And then – Well – Hmm. . . ."

It took all Candice had not to judge her sister for what her statement implied. Instead, she settled with a narrowed glare as she uttered, "Wow. That's all you can think of?"

Clary held her hands up in surrender. "I'm not dissing him, or you. I just don't know him that well. Besides, he's in your grade, not mine. I focus on the sophomores, juniors, and occasional freshman." The gold eyeshadow she wore began to twinkle as her brows sneaked towards her hairline. "You really got it bad, huh?"

Candice returned to her food, cheeks burning as she picked at the leftover crusts lying on her lunch bag. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure that you do." Leaning forward, Clary placed her chin in her waiting palms and batted her eyelashes. "I bet you write 'Mr. and Mrs. Burrows-Freeman' all over your notes."

"I do not!"

"Do you have your wedding day planned out? Am I your maid-of-honor? I better be your maid-of-honor, 'cause you're going to be mine. Oh! How many kids will you have? What are their names? Where are you -"

Paranoid that their conversation was loud enough for all of Philadelphia to hear, Candice made a break for the cafeteria's exit.

"Wait! Where are you going? Candice? Candice!"

"Leave me alone," she begged, frantically dumping her trash.

"What? Why? All I asked was how serious your crush on -"

"Clary, I love you more than anyone in the entire world, but I need you to stop."

"Stop?"

"_Clary._"

"Okay, okay. I'll stop. For now. But don't be surprised if I bring this up again tonight."

Thankful that she'd finally managed to get through to her meddlesome sister, Candice nodded her head. "_Thank you._"

Clary swished her hand, skipping a little when she finally matched her pace with Candice's. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome." An apologetic, worrying look was sent her way. "You really don't have to be ashamed of liking someone, you know."

"I -"

"No, really."

"I don't have time -"

"'For dating.' Yeah, you've mentioned that, like, a million times." Linking their arms and tilting her head in Candice's direction, Clary added, "I just want you to go out with someone you like. You know? Dinner and a movie, laughing at stupid jokes, bonding over any weird hobbies you might have in common."

"Clary -"

"It's a lot of _f-un_," she sang.

"Noted."

"Will you at least consider it?"

"I'd sooner gouge my eyes out," was Candice's deadpanned reply.

"Okay, Oedipus."

"You know _Oedipus_?"

"It's hard to forget when a guy unknowingly screws his mom."

"Touché."

A gasp of excitement left Clary as she jumped up and down like a kid fueled on sugar. "Let me set you up on a blind date! We can do a double date! Oh, my god, Candice, _please_?!"

"No. Absolutely not."

"_Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!_"

"No! No, no, and no," she firmly stated, shaking herself free before rushing towards the bathrooms. "I'll see you after school."

Miraculously, the wannabe matchmaker didn't follow her. Instead, said girl opted to say, "Okay. . . . See you later, then."

* * *

For Candice, the most intimate relationship she'd ever had was with stories.

She'd listened to tales about puppies who wanted humans to play with for Christmas. She'd told fantasies about princesses who dreamed of leaving their towers to Clary. She'd wondered what happened to unicorns after they learned what regret feels like.

She'd read about a little girl who'd found out she was a powerfully capable witch. She's read about a man who lived in a bell tower, in-love with a beautiful woman who didn't return his feelings. She'd even read about a man who couldn't let his loved ones go, dying by the hands of his wife's reanimated corpse.

There were places she'd gone that she'd never be able to visit, both fictional and real. A summer in Italy where a teen on the verge of adulthood fell for the man staying at his family's home. A land that had an endless winter thrust upon them. A school where magic was very much alive and well.

All were what helped her escape when she couldn't face the world. Her closest confidants. The ones who embraced her regardless of who she was or what kind of day she'd had. It was within their pages that she hid her deepest and most powerful yearnings. Where she let her tears of sorrow and joy stain their inky words.

Perhaps that's why she fit in so well at her mall's Barnes and Noble. A place where she breathed in the scent of pages that had yet to be turned and recommended books to customers. And she loved it. (It also didn't hurt that she had access to an employee discount that she could use).

For a few hours, five times a week, she'd drift away from thoughts of research papers and upcoming tests. All she needed to do was ring up the items placed before her, stock the shelves, and add some novels to her wish list.

As she placed a stack of YAs on the almost empty Page to Screen table, someone playfully plowed into her. She let out a yip of surprise while they circled their arms around her waist.

"Guesswhatguesswhatguesswhat?!" Clary chanted.

"Jesus," Candice grumbled, her racing heart beginning to settle back to the rate god had intended it to beat. "I thought your break wasn't for another ten minutes."

"I got the chance to sneak off." She began rocking their bodies to-and-fro, chin pressed atop her sibling's shoulder. "You'll never guess who I saw just now."

"I don't know. Wonder Woman?"

"God, I wish," Clary dreamily sighed. "Think of somebody less famous."

"The mayor?"

"Less."

"Principle Hernandez?"

"Close, but no cigar."

Glancing at the cheeky imp smiling up at her, Candice said, "I'm really not in the mood to play Guess Who, sis."

"Fine, fine. Take all the fun out of it." Leaning back, bouncing on the balls of her feet, Clary got out in a single breath, "Billy, Darla, and Freddy!"

Candice nearly dropped the stack of glossy hardcovers she held. "What?!"

"Yeah! I saw them come into Claire's, 'cause I'm on the register today. Darla dragged them in to look at some earrings. And I'm all like 'woah, hey, I know those guys.' So, I hear them talking about how Christmas is coming up, and what they should get their other foster sister. Then Darla says that they should get her books, 'cause she likes to read and is super smart. They were all like 'hey, yeah, that's a great idea, good thinking.' Then I realized that you work at the only bookstore here. And, because I'm the best sister in the history of, like, ever, I snuck away to let you know that they're coming. They should be here any minute now."

That. . . was a lot to take in.

It was super impressive that Clary could talk as fast and as much as she did without breaking a single sweat.

And that's when it slapped her in the face, her cheeks stinging with cold, hard facts.

Freddy freaking Freeman was about to drop in. To look at the books she helped sell.

"_Oh, my god,_" she whispered, both horrified and excited.

"I know!"

"Oh, my god!"

Candice dropped the books, not caring how they were piled. It was then that she began her frantic search for the farthest, least noticeable corner the store had.

"Candice, come on! Get back here!"

She didn't answer, marching onward with a look of nerves and determination. There was no way she could face him here.

Not where she worked.

_Oh, cripes. _

He'd know where she worked.

She'd know that he knew where she worked, and she could not have that. Coming to work would give her a rising sense of panic each time she walked through the doors, and then she wouldn't be able to focus - always feeling like she'd be caught off-guard. She'd have to answer anything he asked her while making sure she didn't sound like a stuttering mess. Not to mention how her skin would be the same shade as a sunburnt tomato.

"Hey! This is a good thing. You can talk to him, maybe ask to hang out sometime?" suggested Clary once she'd managed to put a halt on Candice's retreat, hands firmly gripping her sides – ignoring how she squirmed like a docked fish.

"I can't talk to him," Candice whisper-hissed.

"Why not?"

"Because all I'll end up doing is sputter like a broken tea kettle!"

"That's. . . a bit descriptive," said Clary with a puzzled squint. "Would it really be that bad to talk to him?"

"Yes. It would."

Before Clary could fire back a retort, someone interrupted, "Is there a problem over here, Miss Burrows?"

The sisters jumped, turning towards who had spoken to them. Candice's manager, Richard, was giving her a look. It was the kind that was pointed, condescending, and on the verge of chewing her out. Not that this was a common occurrence, considering that she tended to work non-stop. She made it her mission in life to not upset the authority figures in her life, seeing as they could make or break her. The last thing she needed was to hate her otherwise enjoyable job, considering it didn't make her want to rip her hair out by its roots on a regular basis.

"No, sir," she meekly said, shifting closer to Clary.

Ever the unimpressed, stoic man, Richard scowled at her response. "Good, because we have a new set of customers that just walked in."

Candice's gaze shifted towards the front of the store, fearing the worst. When she saw the three people he was referring to, she almost fainted. There, standing by the New Arrivals table, were the very three people Clary had told her were on their way down. Chuckling, teasing, conversing.

Darla dashed around the store with bubbly excitement, grabbing books at random. Billy and Freddy watched this unfold with amusement, gladly talking amongst themselves.

Perfect Freddy. Brilliant Freddy. Wonderful hair Freddy.

A cough of surprised disbelief left her, causing Candice to double over herself to get a grip.

"Are you feeling alright?" Richard asked her, distant and uncaring for her well-being.

"Y-y-yes," she said, trembling palm on her chest.

The stinging of tears began to subside when Clary patted her back.

"Good. Get back to work," he demanded, jutting his chin in their direction, before leaving the pair be.

"God, what a dick," Clary said. "You okay?"

Candice remained hunched over, her hair acting as a curtain as she stared blankly at the tan carpet. She really didn't think she had it in her to talk to Freddy. If she even looked at him, close enough to hear him breathing, she'd be a goner. Her face would turn scarlet, her brain would be in a tizzy, and her stomach would go bonkers. All the while looking like a textbook idiot.

"Candice?"

"Peachy," she said, swallowing the rising lump in her throat.

A beat of silence passed between them, and then: "Gee, miss. Do you think you could help me find this one book? I didn't see it anywhere out here. Can you check the back to see if you have some hidden away?

She blinked, perplexed. "Huh?"

"It's green and has a boy and a girl on the cover? I think it's called_ I'll Knock on the Backroom Door Three Times When It's Clear._"

Catching on, Candice sent Clary a grateful smile, her shoulders relaxing. "I'll go take a look."

"Thank you!"

With a gentle push, Candice was off, her fast pace easily mistaken for excellent customer service.

Had she glanced back, she would have seen Clary make her way towards the foster siblings. She would have also seen the pep in her step, as well as the beaming grin that had spread across her face. Maybe then she would have been ready for the whirlwind of events that were soon to come.

* * *

**Clary, darling, what are you up to? I guess we'll find out soon.**

**I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. It was a lot of fun to write, and I cannot wait to further explore this world and its characters.**

**Well, until next time, see you later :)**


	2. Chapter Two

**It took about four months, but the second chapter is finally finished. Hopefully it won't take as long for me to upload the next one (lol, oops).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Shazam!_ in any way, shape, or form.**

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Like every Friday night, Candice readied herself for her usual routine: a quick meal that her mom had left in the fridge, a steaming shower to wash away her nerves, and hours' worth of reading. Though studious, she always saved her homework for the remainder of the weekend. She needed time to unwind, to let her mind relax for a bit before some much-needed sleep.

There was nothing more satisfying than slipping into her coziest pajamas (always undergoing a quick tumble in the drier on such a night), curling beneath piles of warm blankets, and reading to her heart's content. This sounded especially enticing after nearly having a heart attack at Barnes and Noble earlier on. So, with a belly full of diet soda and leftover chicken enchiladas, Candice was more than happy to dive into her next book.

Releasing a content sigh, Candice snuggled further into her pillows before excitedly opening the emerald hardback resting on her lap.

She could tell by the opening line, one that spoke of a mole cleaning his home, that she was going to enjoy her evening very much. Especially with her Just in Case novel sitting on her side table – a well-loved copy of _The Hobbit_, its spine cracked with white veins and edges twirled inwards.

Candice would have been perfectly fine with how uneventful it all was. It was as thrilling as a week at Disney World, so long as she did not have to deal with strangers badgering her about rules she could not change and was within reach of a towering glass of water.

Clary, however, had other plans.

"What the frickity frack are you doing?" the youngest Burrows asked, standing in Candice's doorway with a look of raging judgement.

Blinking, as if emerging from a cave after a year's worth of endless spelunking, Candice hesitantly replied, "Reading?"

Shaking her head, Clary bounced her way up to her sister's bed, the rhinestone bangles on her wrists _jingling_ each time her feet touched the ground. She heavily plopped down in the middle of Candice's setup. A gasp of disbelief left Candice when the novel she held was rudely yanked from grasp.

"Hey! Give that back!" she demanded.

Having reacted a little too late, Candice watched Clary stand up on the mattress, knees slightly and arrogantly bent.

"No," Clary firmly said, making sure her arm was stretched towards the star-covered ceiling.

Getting up on her feet, legs wobbling as she tried to maintain her balance, Candice reached out to grab a hold of her sister's calves, only to watch the pest in question easily avoid her.

"I mean it, Clary," said Candice, nearly tripping on a bundle of sheets, watching as her sister jumped back to the floor and moved towards the window.

Clary nonchalantly waved the book while she teased with a much-too-simple, "So do I."

Breath heavy and hands pressed atop her knees, Candice asked with a pointed look, "What do you want?"

"There's a party, and none of my friends can make it tonight."

It took all of Candice's self-control not to scream obscenities at her little sister until she passed out from exhaustion.

_Seriously?_

_That _was the reason why Clary had barged into her room?

"So?"

"'_So_,' I don't want to go alone."

Candice slid until she was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out before her as if preparing herself for a yoga pose. Reasoning with Clary was worthy of becoming an Olympic sport, one that took a great amount of stamina and practice to achieve – something that was harder than it should have been.

"You always make friends wherever you go," she remarked, hoping that this would at least side-track-Clary until a much stronger case came to mind.

"And _The Wind in the Willows_ will still be here when you get back."

She wasn't wrong, which made it even harder to argue with her.

Candice should have made more concrete plans, like sneak off to the movies to evade Clary's dastardly plans. Sitting alone at a movie she had little to no interest in seeing was preferable to the likely to be crowded house she would spend the next few hours at.

Perhaps if she brought her book –

"And you can leave it here to keep your back-up book company."

_Damn her. Damn her to hell and back._

Crossing her arms with an overly-dramatic flair and sending Clary a burning death glare, Candice mumbled with a mouth full of cotton, "You come to my room, on my night of relaxation, to ask me to attend a party I will hate?"

"Relax, Godfather. It's not like you found a horse head under your quilt." Sitting on her knees, inches away from a rather cross Candice, Clary continued, "Just this one time, sissy. Please?"

"I'm not in –"

Her gaze snapped downwards when Clary wrapped her hands around her forearms, shaking them as if she were trying to get the last of the ketchup out of its bottle.

"I promise I won't ask you again." When that only drew from the oldest a couple of languished blinks, she burst out, "_Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_ –"

"You've used that word a lot today," interrupted Candice.

What little hesitance that was left was ignored when Clary gave her the biggest puppy dog eyes she had seen in years. A graphic image of them popping out of her skull if she let this go on any longer made her stomach queasily rumble.

Groaning in defeat, face buried in the palms of her hands, Candice grumbled, "Fine, I'll go."

Clary released a boisterous _whoop_. "Heck yeah!" she cheered, fists pumping the air.

"But just this once. You hear me? No more parties after tonight."

"Yeah, yeah. Totally."

Leaping back on her feet, Clary pranced over to Candice's closet while cheerfully humming "I Feel Pretty" beneath her breath.

While Clary quickly shoved clothes aside in her search, Candice warned, "You better not be picking out an outfit for me."

"Maybe I am," Clary airily said, further examining a faded navy-blue shirt. "Maybe I'm not."

"You _do_ know that I'm fully capable of doing that myself, right?"

"You're just going to throw on what you wore to school."

Unable to see the problem, Candice asked, "What's wrong with that?"

Most of it wasn't dirty, and it had been a rather nice outfit – a pair of blue jeans, black vans, and a cinder gray sweater that looked both cozy and practical. She knew she would be better off with a clean T-shirt, though, since the one she wore earlier ended up smelling like she'd run track for hours on end.

A gasp of mock shock came from her pesky sibling. "_Eve-ry-thing,_" Clary deliberately said, hands balled on top of her waist.

That was one of the many differences between the Burrows sisters. While one didn't care about keeping up with Vogue and collecting a dragon's hoard of eyeshadow pallets, the other frequented thrift stores for fashionable outfits and absorbed NikkieTutorials' videos like a sponge.

It wasn't that Candice was against all of that. She just would rather not spend half of her morning getting ready for the day or sniffing out shoe sales. Her lane was staying on top of her Goodreads account and buying office supplies to spice up her studying sessions.

Taking the opportunity to see what her sister had done in the two hours they'd been home, Candice could see that she'd swapped out her uniform – one that consisted of casual jeans, a deep purple shirt, lots of chunky jewelry, and sparkly hair accessories – for something that was a bit more mature – a sleeveless top covered in silver glitter, her nicest pair of jeans, and heeled boots that matched her shirt. Even her makeup was much more glamorous, smokier than a campfire and sharp as an assassin's knife.

"It's not as bad as you make it sound," Candice argued, hoping that she could at least wear the sweater she wanted to.

"Oh, you have _so _much to learn." Returning to her previous task, Clary shifted a few more articles of clothing aside before exclaiming, "_Ah-ha!_"

Spinning around, Clary revealed what she wanted Candice to wear for the rest of the evening. To her shock, it wasn't as bad as she had expected. In one hand, Clary held a long-sleeve shirt that had floral lace on the back. In her other hand were high waisted semi-formal pants, its soft pink and red rose print popping out amongst the black background. To Clary's credit, she also had picked out the shoes Candice had worn to school earlier that day.

"That's. . . actually pretty cute."

With a satisfied smile, Clary squealed very Monica Geller like, "I know!" Tossing the outfit onto Candice's lap, Clary wriggled in place as she waited for her sister to make a move. "Put it on, put it on, put it on!"

Indicating for her to turn around, Candice said, "Alright, alright. Hold your horses."

It didn't take long to put everything on.

"Okay. Let's go."

"Waitwaitwait. Hold on a sec," Clary blurted out, grabbing hold of Candice's forearm. "You can't go without doing your hair and makeup!"

"I'm fine the way that I am."

Clary's eyes widened, shaking her head in disbelief. "I _seriously_ didn't hear you say that!"

"We don't have time," said Candice, tapping her wrist in hopes that Clary cared more about getting there on time than making her look good.

"Better to be fashionably late than on time," said Clary as she pushed Candice towards her vanity.

_I was afraid that you'd say that._

Before she could get another word in, Clary quickly got to work – rushing out of the room and soon returning with a medium sized box filled with beauty supplies. As they waited for the flat iron to heat up ("My hair's already flat!" "There's no such thing as _too_ flat."), Clary got to work with Candice's makeup.

"Nothing too fancy, sis," Candice begged, nervously watching said girl shift through both of their makeup bags.

Clary huffed, twirling a couple of lip-gloss canisters between her fingers as if she were trying to uncover the universe's greatest secrets. "You act like I don't even know you."

"You make me wonder sometimes."

It was a relief when she didn't go _too_ crazy, though she could tell by the corner of Clary's mouth whenever it twitched that she wished she had free reign over her face. The wildest additions to Candice's look was a peach lipstick that made her lips look plumper than they were and thicker-than-normal eyeliner.

While she further observed her makeup, Clary expertly flattened her hair before twisting it into a braided side ponytail, setting it with a haze of hairspray.

"And. . . done!"

Candice hated to admit it, but her sister did a fantastic job. It almost made her excited to go out (_almost_). If her sister hadn't made it abundantly clear that she wanted to become an interior designer, she would have suggested to Clary that she consider becoming a fashion consultant. But that was just Clary: someone with an eye for design, scanning her latest project with careful thought before happily skipping towards the next step.

With her sister's help, Candice knew that she shouldn't have been all that surprised how amazing she looked. Normally, she looked like she was an oversized sweater away from becoming a lady who owned fifty cats and got excited over receiving the Donnie and Marie plates she'd ordered while waiting for _Antique Roadshow _to resume.

She didn't mind frumpy. Frumpy was familiar. Frumpy meant that she didn't have to put too much thought into what she threw on before facing her daily tasks. But when she looked like this, like an eighteen-year-old girl who wasn't socially inept, she felt good – so good that she didn't mind playfully wrapping the tips of her fingers around the feathered tip of her hair, a small smile daring to reflect her exhilaration.

Did that make her self-absorbed? Possibly. But she didn't care. At least, she didn't, until she remembered why she was wearing some of her hardly ever worn outfits to begin with.

"I –"

"Nope!" Clarry interrupted, aggressively popping the 'p.' "We're going."

"It's just that –"

"You'll be fine."

And, before Candice could think to stubbornly plant her feet to the floor and grip the peeling chair she sat upon with a death grip, Clary _whooshed _her away, guiding a still unsure of what to make of the situation Candice towards the front door.

"Who knows?" said the sophomore, making sure that their home was locked. "You might even have fun."

All Candice could find it in herself to do was button and unbutton her winter coat, following her sister into the early evening, the crisp scent of frost dancing in the air.

* * *

The regret began to settle in the pit of Candice's stomach the moment she heard Lizzo's voice make its way down the street Clary had led them to. It only became stronger the closer they got, her breath puffing out of her nose in anxious, nearly invisible streams.

"It's loud," Candice said, hinting her worry about the cops busting them.

Her luck, their mom would have to leave her shift at the hospital to pick up her irresponsible daughters from the police station. She wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes, shame and guilt keeping her from seeing the disappointment she'd no doubt radiate.

"Just a little," admitted Clary, lazily shrugging her shoulders. "It's still early enough for there to be some noise."

Candice eyed her sibling, a feeling of uncertainty brewing within the marrow of her bones. Since the moment they left for the train station, Clary had seemed a bit off – like she was hiding something from her. The usually talkative girl had lost some of her spark, hardly sharing anything about where they were going or how long she planned for them to be there.

Something told Candice that she should have been firmer, that she should have told Clary to buzz off and let her read in peace. In fact, she wished she had. Not even her temporary new look was enough to distract her, the thrill of it all having begun to die down.

She'd shifted from messing with her coat's buttons to the tips of her gloves and then the bottom half of her hair. Candice had made the mistake of putting some of it in her mouth, the foul taste of hairspray leading her to spitting it out, running her fingers over her tongue to get rid of her latest mistake. If only she'd stayed home. If only she'd barricaded her door. If only she'd built an immunity against her sister's puppy dog eyes.

A cold breeze _whooshed _across Candice's red nose, stinging her skin. Though the idea of going into the house they were steps away from made her nervous, the chance to at least warm up a bit before she fled like the wuss she was had succeeded in tempting her to risk the chance of her becoming a wallflower.

As if he had sensed their presence, Hayden Herron, a rather popular athlete from the junior class, pulled the shaking door open. A giant smile, one that was far too charming for his own good, appeared the moment he laid eyes on Clary.

"Burrows!" he boomed; his tone thick with alcohol. "You made it!"

"Like I'd miss this!" she threw back, her dark hair bouncing atop her shoulders as if it agreed with her.

Hayden's red-rimmed eyes, an unfortunate side-effect from the weed he was perfumed with, shifted onto Candice, confusion replacing the warmth that had been in them seconds ago. "Who's this?"

Candice felt her face fall. Not that she expected him to be buddy-buddy with her, but she had thought that he at least knew who she was. Up until last year, they'd been in the same P.E. class, thinking that he'd at least recognize her from the times they played dodgeball and kickball together. Apparently, she was much more forgettable than she'd thought.

He received a friendly punch on his arm from Clary.

"My sister, dumbass."

Even that didn't ring any bells for him.

Wanting to get the night over with, Candice squeezed past him by walking side-ways. "Excuse me," she quietly said.

As she made her way through the crowded front room, intent on finding the kitchen, the introverted teen heard yet another one of Hayden's insults to injury: "I didn't even know you had one."

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

To say that Candice was way out of her element was an understatement. She was in an entirely different world, one where nothing made sense – where things that felt familiar in moderation felt like a completely new concept to her. She might as well put on a tinfoil hat and start spitting out conspiracy theories, since she'd already been given bewildered why-is-she-here looks from the handful of people who recognized her.

From her awkward sixth grade days, Candice knew that she stuck out like a weed in a bouquet of flowers. Friends were hard to come by the moment the people she thought would continue to trade Pokémon cards and watch Disney movies with during the weekends had moved on to either different schools or different social groups.

She'd missed the memo, one where she needed to start wearing mascara and drop her interest in superheroes like it was a deranged rat.

While Lisa O'Donnell and Kendra Dawson, two of her former best friends, religiously read teen magazines and switched out their Horse Girl apparel for crop tops, Candice continued to wear graphic T-shirts and packed her lunches in a hot pink Barbie lunchbox. Basically, they were no longer interested in associating themselves with her, deciding to invent a new version of themselves, the kind that made the then eleven-year-old feel left behind with no chance of ever catching-up.

This was the first party she'd been to since the fifth grade, and she hadn't even been invited by Hayden or any of his basketball pals. Nope. She was here because Clary didn't want to go alone.

Speaking of Clary. . . .

Candice had no idea where she could have gone. She'd made the mistake of going off on her own, assuming that it wouldn't be that difficult to run into her again. The house was only slightly bigger than her own, but the amount of people dashing throughout the first story only served to further distance the sisters. Not to mention how Clary couldn't resist catching-up with at least half of their school's population. It wasn't in her nature to turn down the chance to talk until the cows came home.

Pouting, Candice took a sip from her can of diet Pepsi, imagining all the things she could do to make Clary feel a fraction of the discomfort she currently felt. (She'd only agreed to come because Clary made it sound like she wouldn't leave her side for more than a few minutes.) Making her sit through a marathon of Superman documentaries was a strong contender, seeing as Clary couldn't sit still for more than two seconds. There was also a mountain of chores that she could throw on her, giving her the chance to catch up on the hours of reading she'd lost out on.

As Candice mentally made a list of the songs she knew Clary despised, fully intending to play them at full blast for the rest of the month whenever they were stuck at home, she failed to notice the boy standing awkwardly before her.

"Enjoying the party?!" the boy shouted over Shakira's shaky voice.

Candice choked on the soda she'd begun to swallow, face turning an embarrassing shade of red as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Whoa! Easy there," the boy said, his hand reaching out and retreating multiple times in a span of seconds before eventually patting her back as if he weren't sure this was how he should interact with someone in need. "Deep breaths. Nice, long, deep breaths."

Through a glossy gaze, Candice felt her heart rudely take the burning liquid's place. She should have been grateful that her reaction to his touch, to his proximity, could be blamed on her coughing fit.

Leaning into his crutch, his perfect hair shining in the living room's yellow light, was Freddy. The boy who she couldn't imagine having a conversation with without screeching like a dinosaur the entire time. It finally registered in her frazzled mind that he was still touching her back, the warmth of his hand reaching the skin that the lace of her shirt didn't completely cover. It was a heavenly mix of soft and calloused, gentle yet firm.

_System overload. System overload. System overload._

And his eyes, big and the color of rich chocolate, had locked with hers. Slowly, he placed his arm back by his side, much to Candice's disappointment.

Swallowing the lump that was lodged in her throat, Candice licked her sticky-sweet lips. "It's okay," she croaked, brain going into overtime to put together coherent sentences. "You?"

"It's not the party of the year, but it's fine."

A moment of silence passed between the two, "Hips Don't Lie" blaring around them, before Freddy shifted his eyes to the empty seat next to Candice.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" Freddy asked.

Candice discovered that her heart practically burst out of her chest at his question. Sit next to Freddy? As in, have their bodies so close that they could hardly extend their arms to touch each other, if so desired? She wanted so badly for him to be near her, to get the chance to look at him closely, but another part of her was screaming at her to run for the hills.

She didn't trust herself to speak, ultimately leading her head to bob up and down – its weight far heavier than it usually was. It also didn't do her panic any favors when he smiled at her rather goofily – narrow yet wide all at once, the perfect grin for all things sneaky during the proper time and place.

_I'm done for._

"Awesome!" he said, carefully making his way down. Once seated, he took off his crutch and learned it against the couch.

Heat began to pool in her stomach as Candice silently watched him, bringing her legs closer – the faux leather cool from lack of contact. She'd fixed her sight for half a second on one of his curls, thick from the amount of time he'd allowed it to grow out, as it shifted from one angle to another.

When he looked her way, that brilliantly weird smile seemingly stuck in place as he mindlessly laid his right arm on top of the couch, it felt as if someone had dug a grappling hook into her belly button and pulled as hard as humanly possible.

Outside of the few times their desks were near to each other, this was the closest they had ever been. It allowed her to notice things about him that she hadn't before, like how he had an abundance of hardly-there freckles – freckles on his face, freckles on his hands, freckles upon freckles upon freckles.

_Holy hell! Where did those come from?!_

Candice had a thing for freckles. She didn't know why they drove her crazy, she really didn't. All she knew was that the more freckles a crush of hers had, the more her attraction grew. And she most certainly felt it skyrocket like an arrow loudly slamming the top of a Test Your Strength game.

"Wanna hear a weird fact about soda?" he asked.

Stunned out of her drooling, Candice rapidly blinked at the awaiting teen. "Huh?"

"Like, _super_ weird."

"O-kay."

That seemed to peel off another layer of restraint from Freddy, for he leaned in a little closer, eyes sparkling with exhilaration. "So, back in the 60's, Dr. Pepper put out these ads where they, get this, _encouraged _their customers to warm their product up."

It really wasn't as surprising of a fact as her gasp made it out to be, yet there she was, acting as if were a major murder-mystery plot twist. "That's disgusting!"

"Not if you put a lemon slice in it."

Snorts of disbelieving laughter came from Candice, quickly cupping her hands over the bottom part of her face. It really didn't help that Freddy looked incredibly amused by her response.

"No way! You snort laugh?" he asked, stupidly grinning at her.

Embarrassment colored her tightened cheeks. The dreaded showing-up-to-homeroom-in-nothing-but-your-underwear dream was far less mortifying in contrast to having the boy she liked find out about a big insecurity of hers.

She was more than ready to protest that she didn't when he said with great sincerity, "That's adorable!"

A wave of shock washed over her.

Did Freddy _really_ say that? Did he really think that her laughter was adorable?

She could practically feel herself melting into the carpet, a feeling that distracted her for a moment from her anxiety over talking to him. "It _so _is not!"

"Well, it is, so –" He stopped whatever he was going to say, eyebrows shooting upwards in realization. "Whoops!" Freddy held out a hand, the tips of his fingers nearly poking Candice in her boobs when he hurriedly stuck it out for her to shake. "I'm Freddy. Freeman. Freddy Freeman."

Candice shifted her eyes between Freddy's face and his hand, the whole interaction a mess she hadn't expected to occur. (A nice mess, one that she found to be delightfully endearing.)

"I. . . know. W-we have. . . a couple classes. Together. That we share."

It took all her brainpower to remember how to have the best poker face while she internally yelled at herself for being a jumbled disaster. No duh he knew what 'together' meant. He wasn't a kindergartner who had yet to learn what a dictionary was.

"Right. . . , Candice. Burrows. You're Candice Burrows. Which I strictly know because the teacher calls your name and you always say: 'Here.' Not because I follow you around like some creepy old guy."

If it were possible to get whiplash from the speed at which someone spoke, Candice was certain her neck would have broken sentences ago. Not that she hadn't heard him talk before. It's just that this was one of the few times she'd heard him talk at the speed of light, a rather humorous thought. For a moment, she was certain he was just as nervous talking to her as she was talking to him. But that was highly unlikely. Boys didn't give her the time of day, especially the ones she liked.

Yet again, the way their conversation was going made her forget to be a bumbling idiot. "Oh, so that wasn't you standing outside my window last night?" she teased with a small, shy smile.

Her response made Freddy's eyes widen before he said with a teasing tone, "Nah. That was my twin, Greddy."

"Greddy! I should have known."

"We really need to put him back in his cage."

"Definitely."

Glancing down at their hands, Candice was shocked to notice that they had inched closer to each other, the small amount of distance that had initially been between them now closed. Their thighs brushed against each other, splayed fingers practically touching. Electricity radiated between the teens, its energy powerfully pulsing around them.

When she looked back up at Freddy, she could see that he must have noticed this, too. Neither of them spoke. Candice could have sworn that the room had become silent, that the speakers no longer blared whatever R&B song had been playing. A magnet drew Candice's attention towards Freddy's lips, lips that were lightly covered in ChapStick.

What would it be like, kissing Freddy? Would it be as romantic as all the rom-coms she loved promised it to be, or would it be sloppy and gross?

She really wanted to kiss him. Badly.

Rather timidly, Candice glanced back up at Freddy to find him still staring at her in a way that made a bunch of butterflies chaotically flutter around her belly, the thrill of it all making her head feel dizzy with uncertain anticipation.

Maybe he would have kissed her, right in the middle of Mr. Didn't Know You Had a Sister's living room, had not an all-too familiar voice loudly chirped, "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Freddy and Candice jumped in place, looking up at a rather thrilled Clary. The younger girl held a red cup that Candice was 97% certain was the spiked punch she'd avoided while in the kitchen. From the half hour they'd been separated, Clary had managed to gain the beginnings of a buzz, smudge her lipstick, and gained traces of another girl's purple lipstick on the corners of her mouth.

"Found me," Candice said, wrapping sweaty fingers around her soda can.

Glancing between the high school seniors, a way-too satisfied smile gradually spread across Clary's face. "Make a new friend, sissy?"

"Uh. . . ."

"Great party, isn't it?" Clary continued, either from mercifully throwing her sibling a bone or because she wanted to move things along.

"The best."

And Candice meant it. In fact, she wouldn't mind staying until the stragglers were kicked out.

"Thanks for inviting us," Freddy added, causing Candice's insides to drop to her pelvis. She had to have heard him wrong. There was no way he was here because of her sister. But the panicked look Clary was sending him as she ever so discreetly shook her head was all the confirmation Candice needed. "We really don't get out much, so this was – Wait. W-why are you giving me the 'hey, Captain Oblivious, shut your mouth' look?"

The events leading up to tonight flashed across Candice's mind.

Clary wanting to set her up on a blind date.

Clary promising to take care of the foster siblings at Barnes and Noble.

Clary insisting that she come to the party.

Clary making sure she looked fancier than normal.

Tears of frustration clouded her gaze. Now it all made sense: Clary had tried to set her up, even after she told her not to.

Springing up from the couch, the soda can wetly hitting to the ground, Candice roughly bumped her shoulder against Clary's, ignoring hers and Freddy's shouts as she shoved her way out of the house.

Didn't-want-to-go-alone her ass.

How could she have been so naïve? How could she have thought that Clary wanted to spend time with her?

It had all been a crafty plot, one that was supposed to go on without a hitch. Had Freddy not said anything, Clary probably would have gotten her way.

Hurt replaced her frustration when a painful realization dawned on her: Everything she thought had happened between her and Freddy wasn't real.

God, Clary probably asked him to not freak out if her boring, weirdo sister tried to kiss him.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

The sound of rapid footsteps descending porch steps creaked behind her. "Candice! Wait!" Clary called out as she rushed to join her. "Can –"

Whirling around, Candice glared at her little sister with so much anger that she took a few steps back. "Did you seriously think I wouldn't find out?"

"Wha –"

"Don't play dumb!"

Deflated, Clary wrapped her arms around her stomach, the outline of her body shivering from the late November chill. "I thought you'd be happy."

Dry, unamused laughter came from Candice, head tilted back. The beginnings of a light snowstorm fell from the black-gray sky, its snowflakes melting the moment they landed on her skin. "By asking him to humor me?"

Confusion joined Clary's worry, a small crease appearing between her evenly drawn brows. "'Humor you?'"

"_Clary_," she warned.

"I have no idea what you're –" It was then that her words clicked, pity now added to the mix. "Candice, I'd _never_ do that to you."

Candice wanted to believe that she hadn't gotten wound up in becoming Cupid's little helper. But she knew her sister. Clary had to be in everyone's business, was infuriatingly reckless, and did whatever she pleased - regardless of the consequences.

It could have been hours for all Candice knew before she irritably snapped, "I don't need you to play matchmaker for me."

"Oh, because you were doing _so _well without my help."

Shaking with rage, the kind that made her want to scream and cry until her lungs caught fire, Candice resumed her march towards the nearest SEPTA station.

"Yeah, it was nice talking with you, too!" yelled Clary, stomping her feet after each word.

Candice, not trusting herself to verbally reply, shot her arm towards the starless sky, her bare middle finger the cherry on top of a crappy day.

* * *

**Is it weird that I'm glad they fought? I'd probably react similarly if my siblings did the same to me.**

**The next chapter is when the real action starts. It's also where Freddy's avatar makes an appearance, so there's that to look forward to!**

**Until next time, see you later :)**


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